Not Another Cliche LOTR Fic
by Secret Toasty Pirate
Summary: TOAST...FRENCH TOAST...we likes toast...if you are of any intelligence, you will not click on this freaking excuse for a story. Sigh
1. Of Accents and Warpholes

  
**Title:** Not Another Cliche LOTR Fic  
**Author:** The Secret Toasty Pirate, yo.  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Summary:** TOAST...FRENCH TOAST...we likes toast...if you are of any intelligence, you will not click on this freaking excuse for a story. Sigh. 

**Author's Note:** Weee!! This is, contrary to the title, somewhat of a cliche fic. I do like to believe. Though I despise and hate them, from the heart of my bottom.I must thank my dearest amigas for inspiration...Clara (Second Breakfast) and Brittany (The Witch King). And to Jeremy, the Drag Queen.

**Disclaimer:** WE DOESN'T OWN IT, PRECIOUS!!

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Chapter One  
**Of Accents and Warpholes

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One happy, sunny day, two girls were looking at pictures of Billy Boyd, Elijah Wood, and Orlando Bloom, respectively. Wait--never mind. Strike that. We'll make it an absolutely crappy day...with...rain...and a tornado...raging outside. And we'll add another girl in there to "odd" it up. 

So anyway, these girls, they had names, as most people do. One was named Brittany Hensley. She was a Lord of the Rings freak, and also a cliche Orlando Bloom fan. The second was called Clara Metz. Like Brittany, she was a hardcore Lord of the Rings fan. Though she was more attracted to Billy Boyd. And I don't blame her. But I digress.

The last of the trio of Lord of the Rings fans was called Emily. Emily was new to the LOTR-verse, and found it all fascinating. The power Lord of the Rings had corrupted her, drawn her in, just like the One Ring. Within but a day of watching The Fellowship on DVD, she found that she could not talk about anything else.

She began reading LOTR fanfiction, in every form, with every pairing. She was particularly fond of the ever popular Frodo/Sam pairing, which opened her up into the brilliance of slash, but we won't go in to that now.

Emily even downloaded "The Steward of Gondor" song, from Return of the King, where Pippin sings for Denethor (that bastard...). Often, Emily listened to it on her iPod, on the bus, which is precisely where I am now, telling you the tale of these three girls.

So, enough about her. Oooh, Wal-Mart!! Weeee! Yes...good times...so, where was I? Of course, of course. The three girls were all "surfing the net", as some say, viewing Lord of the Rings pictures. Emily was looking atElijah Woodpictures, Brittany was gazing at Orlando Bloom photographs, and Clara was scrutinizing Billy Boyd images. I apologize for the excessive use of similes. Oh wait, just let me change this song...alright, Du Hast by Rammstein, much better.

Anyway...a pop-up suddenly (and literally) popped up on each of the girl's computers. In unison (creepy), they moved the happy little arrow cursor up to the "X" at the top of the pop-up. But curiosity got the better of them, and they decided to investigate the source of this pop-up.

The pop-up had a truly lovely picture of The Shire. The caption at the top read: "Want this as your screensaver? Click here!"

Being the die-hard Lord of the Rings fans they were, they clicked on it. Then, as all three of them had conviently read the Harry Potter books, they felt as if a hook were jerking them somewhere behind their navels...and they were also being sucked into a warphole of dark nothingness!!

None of them realised that they were all in the dark warphole of nothingness together. Untill, that is, one of them spoke.

"..._Lumos_!"

Of course, it was Emily. The other two girls stared frantically around in the dark.

_Oh yeah, we can't see_...thought Clara. "Emily?"

The one who had uttered the spell made a gurgling sound. "Si, it's me! Who doth approacheth?" Emily giggled and gurgled insanely.

"Emily, did you finally get your hands on some rum?" asked a voice. Brittany's voice, to be specific.

"Noooooo!!" said Emily.

"Why did you say 'lumos'?" asked Clara.

"I've read fanfictions like this," began Emily seriously. "The author, usually accompanied by some friends, gets sucked into a world of their choice, prefferably whichever they're obssesed with...like...Tortuga, Hogwarts, Middle Earth...and usually when they get sucked in through the dark warphole of nothingness, they are instantly armed with some sort of magical power.."

Silence.

"So are we going to Middle Earth?" said Clara, assuming a Scottish accent.

"I dunno," answered Emily. "Say, anyone have a cup of tea?"

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And...that is the end...of Chapter...ONNNNNNNNE! You can review, but you must be bloody insane to. That doesn't mean you don't have to...weeee!!!! I apologize for any spelling/grammar mistakes in advance. 

-_Met_-


	2. Are We There Yet?

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Title:** Not Another Cliche LOTR Fic!  
**Author:** That one girl that likes toast...  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Summary:** TOAST...FRENCH TOAST...we likes toast...if you are of any intelligence, you will not click on this freaking excuse for a story. Sigh.

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**Author's Note: **Uber huzzah! I have gotten some reviews! A sign of the Apocolypse, surely. Anyway...thank you! Because I am so positvely overwhelmed by my...six, I think it is...reviews...I am going to ANSWER YOUR REVIEWS! Or...the equivalent of.

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**Tazz** - And as Samwise Gamgee would say, "I ain't been droppin' no eaves, sir!" Though, I am not entirely sure what that has to do with anything. It just seemed like a clever thing to say, wouldn't you agree?...No?...I thought not.

**Raina and Nayana **- Review every chapter, eh? I've no idea why you want to, but don't let me stop you. And I get dots! Woot!

**StarTrekObsessed **- I know, don't you hate those? I loathe them. Err...but I have read a few good ones. A few, mind you.

**Random-Battlecry **- Why, I am touched that you argued with yourself over whether to review my pointless fic or not. Yes. And it is rather pointless, but that's the _point, _isn't it?

**Lobo Diablo** - "The Dark Lord Chicken Ranger?"...genius. Actually, I don't even like French Toast. Just plain, missionary toast. With butter, of course. But it was a song played in band class once...so...WEEE!

**Faerie Enchantress **- Well, I will write more, but techinically, this fic is going nowhere but down the spiraling waters of a toilet. Not that I am discouraging you from reading anymore...

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**Disclaimer** - Here's a llama, there's a llama, and another little llama, fuzzy llama, funny llama, llama llama duck. Translation - don't own it.

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**Chapter TWO  
**Are We There Yet?

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So after like, 3 hours of falling...they were still falling. 

"I'm hungry," complained Emily. The other two girls groaned. It had been like this since Emily had asked for some tea.

"I'm sorry," snapped Clara in an agitated voice. "We're in a dark warphole of nothingness. If you want to eat, eat some of the darkness."

"That doesn't make any sense," reprimanded Brittany.

Silence.

"Are we there yet?" asked Emily. Clara groped around in the darkness to try and slap Emily. Well, slap or strangle, whichever came first.

Then...

CRASHBANGFALLOVERSNAP!!!!

The three girls were laying sprawled in a heap on the grass. Wait, grass? They were finally out of the warphole! Huzzah!

"I think...I've broken something," wheezed Brittany. She reached behind her back and...oh, you'll never guess what she pulled out...a CUCUMBER. "Oh..."

Emily looked around at their surroundings. It looked like they were in a forest of some sort...sort of like the woods around the Shire, if her memory served her, and rarely did it ever. She stood up, but found that she could no longer see as far as she remembered...

Horrified, and somewhat excited, Emily looked down at Clara and Brittany, who were still laying on the grass, and let out a sharp gasp. Brittany stared up at her.

"What?" she asked sharply. Emily looked at Brittany in awe. Coming to her senses, Clara gazed up at Brittany, and gasped as well. "WHAT?!"

Brittany's ears were now graceful and pointed. Her face was soft looking, and her hair, which had been a bit frizzy before, was now long, wavy, and smooth. Emily and Clara continued to gape. When they turned to each other to exchange gapping expressions, they gasped again.

Clara was short (at least, shorter then she had been). In place of shoes were two very long, slightly hairy feet. Emily looked down at her own feet to find the very same thing.

There was a moment of silence, then they all began to squeel and jump around. It was such a sickening sight, I must admit. From my place behind my nice rock, which I am writing to you now the tale of this fangirlish moment, it quite literally made me want to eat grass.

Brittany was a terribly cliche Mary-Sue looking elf. Clara and Emily weren't that bad, but compared to their orginial states, it was quite an improvement. Clara's hair was no longer straight, but very wavy, and slightly sandier; Emily's was a darker brown, and like Clara's, rather wavy.

As they had both (mysteriously) become hobbits, they had also inherited hobbit-like facial features. Clara found that she no longer needed her glasses, as hobbits do have excellent eyesight, and both of their faces had become much smoother. Emily also discovered that her nose was no longer as pointy, much to her fangirlish delight.

Okay, enough with the descriptions. As the girls were talking amongst themselves, a voice called out, "Hello? Who's there?"

What happened next was inevetible. The ex-ring bearing hobbit we all love (or in some cases, love to hate) emerged from the woods. They whirled around and gasped again. So much gasping. Gasps all around! Okay.

"Frodo Baggins," said Emily, so sure it was him. And...well...it was. Frodo looked at her in alarm.

"That is me," said Frodo, startled, his absolutely gorgeous blue eyes opened wide in confusion. "But do I know you?"

"I don't think we've met," said Emily, smiling. "We're wanderers...or vagabonds, if you like. We travel Middle Earth."

"Two hobbits and an elf?" inquired Frodo, his expression more relaxed.

"Yes," answered Emily. "I'm Brara Digswell, of Fair Downs, and tha--" She stopped. What? Where in Middle Earth did that come from? Brara Digswell? She hadn't meant to say it, it just...came out. Swallowing, she continued, pointing at Clara. "Erm...that's--"

"Alura Newbuck," interjected Clara, "of Buckland!"

Emily stared at her.

"Unedia Serinde," said Brittany with such grace that I almost grabbed a fistful of grass and shoved it in my mouth, "Is my name. We ask of you a simple request; that you would allow us to stay with you in the Shire for a week, at the most. We are very weary from traveling, and we need to rest, for we have come from far across Middle Earth."

Frodo was staring at her in a daze. "Of course...I would be...honored...to have you as guests in--in Bag End," he stammered.

Emily and Clara threw a greatful glance at Brittany, then, as quickly as they fell from the warphole into Middle Earth (which was actually like, what, three hours tops?), Frodo Baggins was leading them away to Bag End.

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Hee! Dun dun DUNNNN IHATETHISSTORY DUNNNNN!! But I will continue to write. Not because you want me to, because nobody would want me to continue this travesty. But I will. I will go on. 

El Fin


End file.
